


Maverick

by InsaneSociopath



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, But it's deliberate, He's a lunatic, I'm not kidding, M/M, Manic Chris, background Phil/Cait, confused jim, gratuitous TOS canon event mentions, so OH WELL, so much ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneSociopath/pseuds/InsaneSociopath
Summary: “Our Chris hasn’t been able to shut up about you for going on two months now. So much so that my husband remarked the other night that he hasn’t set anything on fire for weeks now.” Cait rambles, watching him from across the room.“He sets things on fire?” Jim asks weakly.“Frequently and with great enthusiasm unfortunately."OR: The reason Christopher Pike is still a Captain in his mid-fifties and not an Admiral, is not because he's turned down promotion offers, but because command aren't stupid enough toofferhim one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Really not the best written thing on the planet, but the general idea is there.

In which the reason Christopher Pike is still just a Captain is because he’s a goddamn maverick™

...And Jim is kinda gobsmacked by how much.

"Four years?" Jim grins cockily, "I'll do it in three."

He doesn't see Pike's eager smirk in return, because he strides into the burnished silver shuttle without a backwards glance.

 **Fandom:** Star Trek AOS  
**Rating:** T I guess...? *Cough* M now :P  
**Characters:** Christopher Pike, James T. Kirk  
**Relationships:** James T. Kirk/Christopher Pike  
**Warnings:** Eh, it's pretty tame bar some swearing. Also, you know, M rated.  
_Part inspired by Star Trek III and IV, in which Jim gets himself demoted from Admiral back to Captain for disobeying senior officers, and part by Star Trek: Beyond where-in Jim is offered a promotion to Vice Admiral at the tender age of 30…_

* * *

Jim has been crashing his way through the Academy for just under two months when he _really_ starts to wonder what he’s gotten himself in for.

Not the Academy itself; that he’s managing to navigate through with an ease that surprises even himself. Most of the teaching staff and professors appreciate his quick thinking and intelligent ideas, and only a mere handful object to his frequent challenging of ideas and established procedures. Apparently, despite the whole militaristic air to the organisation, Starfleet likes to actively encourage individuality and free thinking.

That, coupled with the fact that he’s quickly risen to a position of respect where all things physical training related are concerned, means that no, he really isn’t having any problems with the Academy itself.

What _is_ throwing him off is Captain goddamn _Pike._

* * *

It had quickly become clear in orientation week, that Jim’s method of acquiring himself an academic advisor was not by any means normal or routine. In fact, most people signed up for their courses, attended classes for a week, and were _then_ offered a choice from a pool of advisors based on their chosen subjects and career goals. Jim however, had found himself assigned to Pike’s advisory pool within the first couple of days -with absolutely no input from himself.

Not knowing what to make of the situation, he’d just shrugged and decided to get on with sorting the rest of his enrolment and not worry about it.

Then, at the mid-point of his third week, he’d gotten a notice to attend his first advisory meeting the same as everyone else. Friday morning at 11am local time, his notification had read, bring your record files and timetable.

Entirely unconcerned, he’d gone to the meeting, uniform freshly pressed and data PADD in hand. Gary had gone to his the day before and reported back that it was nothing to worry about. Just a little informal meet and greet with the advisor and the half a dozen Cadets assigned to them, and then a very quick general Q&A. So Jim really wasn’t worried in the slightest.

Only when he’d eventually found Pike’s tiny office, squirreled away in the basement of the recruitment building, he’d been thoroughly baffled.

Pike had been sat leaning back in a squeaky office chair, uniform jacket undone, feet up on his battered wooden desk, a hologram dart in one hand and a crystal tumbler with three fingers of amber liquid in it in the other.

”Oh,” Pike had sighed upon spotting Jim hovering in the doorway, “I was kinda hoping you were gonna be late son. No matter, fancy a drink?”

”Um. Yeah I guess sir. Thanks.”

Jim had shuffled into the cramped space cautiously, and accepted the offered glass graciously.

”Oh god, don’t call me sir. My name’s Chris,” the Captain had grumbled, pushing his definitely longer than regulation hair out his eyes. “Now stop hovering and sit down already.” 

Jim had eyed the rickety looking wooden stool in front of the desk dubiously and nudged it with his toe. It had wobbled precariously and one leg had bent at outwards at an awkward angle. 

“I’ll steal something better for you before the next meeting Jim,” Pike had snorted, obviously laughing at his uncertainty. “And I’ll try and bully someone into coming and fixing the damn door too.” 

“Is no-one else coming?” Jim had asked, glancing over his shoulder at the still-open doorway. Now that he was actively looking, he could tell that it was jammed open at an awkward angle and indeed broken. 

“I fucking well hope not,” Pike had laughed, knocking back the rest of his whiskey smoothly. “Now then, put that damn data PADD away and let me tell you were all the best bars in San Fran are.” 

* * *

That had been the start of Jim’s Pike-problems, as Bones quickly took to calling them.

They’d only gotten more ludicrous throughout the two months.

* * *

“Jim! Jimmy!”

Jim had looked up towards the top of the outside basketball court fence with a puzzled expression.  
Captain Pike had been sat straddling the eight-foot metal panel with a smug grin, uniform jacket once more unzipped and flapping in the light breeze.

“What in damnation?” Bones had asked, jogging to a stop beside Jim and Gary, blue basketball in hand. 

“Will you lot stop loitering and move the damn ball bags already so I can get down?” Pike had called, pointing down into the court below him.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Jim had asked back, shoving the indicated equipment out of the way.

“My boss tried to give me paperwork to do,” Pike had huffed, landing nimbly in a crouch, “So I ran away. Your timetable says you’ve got team sports this period and I felt like coming and irritating you.”

“Why didn’t you just come in the damn gate!? Sir,” Bones had asked disbelievingly with a raised eyebrow and a nod at the entrance in question.

Pike had shrugged with a smirk.

“My access got revoked after the last time I broke the panel behind the hoop didn’t it? Haven’t bothered hacking my way back in yet.”

“Unbelievable,” Bones had muttered as the Captain had darted forward, flicked the basketball out of his hands and darted away again with a maniacal sounding chuckle.

* * *

“Oh for Christ sake,” the instructor had sighed to himself as he watched the infamous Captain climb over the fence. “Not again.”

* * *

“Jimmy! Jimmy!” the Captain had hissed, jogging over the grass to where he was sat under the shade of a tree, enjoying his afternoon off with Uhura, Gaila, Gary and N’Taal for company.

“Sir?” Jim had asked, beginning to become used to Pike’s crazy antics.

“Give me your jacket son,” Pike had mumbled, sliding to a stop and dropping to sit practically pressed against Jim’s side. Keeping his head ducked, he’d shrugged out of his own jacket, and then snatched Jim’s from him and donned it before Jim could blink. 

Less than a minute later, a couple of campus security guards and one very grumpy looking and soaked to the skin commodore had stomped passed behind them as Pike had sniggered quietly into Jim’s shoulder, hiding his face from view.

“Dare I ask?” Uhura had said coolly, watching Jim chuckle along with Pike disapprovingly.

“Put a bucket of water over his office door,” Pike had snorted once the scowling trio had disappeared behind the Tucker building. “Asshole tried to volunteer me for a demonstrator position on an Underclassman survival expedition.”

Uhura had sat with her mouth hanging slightly open, eyes full of bewilderment. 

“And you thought I was bad,” Jim had chortled, clapping the still giggling Captain on the back and handing him a Risan doughnut.

* * *

“I stole some lemon muffins from the campus store,” Pike had sung off-key as he bounced into his office where Jim had been waiting for over 20 minutes. “And they taste so good!”

Then he’d shoved one in Jim’s mouth, thrown his jacket behind his chair, and grabbed the seemingly ever-present whiskey bottle off the desk and taken a very large swig from it.

* * *

“Okay. I’m bored out of my skull. Nogura is in charge of recruitment this year. Let’s go bother him.”

“Nogura sir?”

“Yeah, the Admiral. He has a black cat and good coffee. Plus, his office is in the building Jimmy, so we don’t have to go out in the rain.”

“And what about this exam entrance form? It’s due in at 5pm sir.”

“Oh fine, you spoil sport. Bring it with you and I’ll trick the Admiral into finishing it for you.”

* * *

So Jim had been amused and a tad perplexed by the Captain, but not really worried.

Not until Jim had dragged a very miserable Bones out into town to drown his sorrows just before the end of their second month.

* * *

“Why hello there fellas’.” 

Jim looks up from his pint and finds Pike leaning back against the bar, grinning cheekily at him and Bones. Like Bones and himself, Pike is dressed in civvies; a faded black shirt undone at the collar and the sleeves rolled up, and a pale pair of stonewash jeans tucked into cracked leather military boots. 

Jim blinks, and reminds himself sternly not to eye him up and down, that Pike is more than twice his age and quite possibly a lunatic. 

“Sir,” Jim mutters, uncomfortably aware that he’s still staring just a little too intensely. 

“Alright, that’s it sonny-Jim.” Pike groans, rolling his eyes. “Every time you call me “Pike” or “Sir” or any variation there upon from here on out, I’m gonna clip you round the ear. Regardless of company or situation. My name is Chris.”

“If a smack or two is all it took to change his naming habits,” Bones mutters darkly, pushing his empty glass away, “he’d have stopped nicknaming me weeks ago. You ain’t got no hope Captain.”

“Oh I’m taking that as a challenge. Yo Jay’Val! Another round down this end yeah? And a dozen pulsar shots too!”

* * *

“Chris?” Jim slurs, a little drunker than he’s usually comfortable being. “Where we going?”

“S’a really good Mexican jus’ down by the bay.”

“Where’d Bones go?”

“With tha’ hot leggy brunette.”

“Oh. She was smokin’. _Good job_ Bonesy”

He makes a finger phaser with the hand not thrown over Chris’ shoulder and mimes blowing off smoke from the barrel. 

“Eh, not my type,” Chris shrugs back, nearly stumbling into a recycler bin next to a bench.

“Pretty sure she was everyone’s type. Anyone with eyes ‘nyway.”

“Nah,” Chris snorts, “too…” 

He pauses, making an odd cupping gesture with his hand.

“Chesty?” Jim suggests with a lewd grin.

“Female,” the captain finishes, smiling lopsidedly. “Jus’ like all other females.”

Jim nods appreciatively.

“More woman for the rest of us then,” he chuckles, continuing to stagger forward.

* * *

With a taco and half of Chris’ nacho starter now devoured, Jim feels a little more sober. His happy carefree buzz hasn’t gone, but he feels a little more comfortable inside his own skin. 

“We should go back to campus,” Chris grumbles, kicking a loose pebble off the end of the jetty. “Come on, I know how to sneak past security.”

* * *

“Chris!” Jim whispers, a little horrified. “What are you doing! We’re supposed to be going home!”

“I want the big ice-bucket!”

“Leave the fucking ice-bucket! You can’t just steal shit in plain sight! You’ll get caught!”

“It’s not stealing! It’s borrowing on a permanent basis! Nobody’s watching anyway.”

* * *

“Get off you bastard!” Chris snarls at the bouncer, clawing at the arm of the big Caitian man dragging him towards the front door.

“You were barred for a reason Pike. Now clear off!”

And then to Jim’s shock, Chris twists round and punches the bouncer square in the nose. Hard enough to topple them both back through the doorway.

* * *

Bloody and bruised, Jim crawls out of the bar onto the sidewalk with a grin, and drops onto his back next to Chris.

In the building behind them, the fight continues to rage.

“That. Was fucking amazing,” he laughs around a mouthful of blood.

Chris grins back just as bloodily, and Jim wonders what the hell he got himself in for when he allowed himself to be goaded by the Captain’s dare.

* * *

Jim awakens to find himself face down on an unfamiliar couch, a violently lime green blanket thrown over him, and a nigh-on unbearable headache pounding away at his temples.

He groans and rolls over, spotting the plastic bucket by his face with a surge of relief. 

“So you’re Jim Kirk then,” a smooth feminine voice sounds from somewhere across the room. Jim squints towards it and finds a petite but well-muscled human woman smiling at him.

“Uhuh,” he moans in affirmation, swallowing back a wave of nausea. 

“Our Chris hasn’t been able to shut up about you for going on two months now. So much so that my husband remarked the other night that he hasn’t set anything on fire for weeks now.”

“He sets things on fire?” Jim asks weakly, pondering whether to try sitting up or not.

“Frequently and with great enthusiasm unfortunately. Oh! Commodore Caitlin Barry by the way. Pleasure to finally meet you. I’ll go fetch Phil and see if he can leave you a little less green around the gills. And if you sweet talk him, he’ll probably regen the last of those cuts and bruises for you too.”

* * *

Chris, it turns out, has been forbidden by the Admiralty from living on his own. Apparently the last time he’d been assigned ‘Fleet accommodations, he’d accidently flooded half the building and caused thousands of credits worth of damage.

And the time before that, he’d unintentionally set off a silica-pykrete building module and filled most of his flat with frozen expanding foam.

And that was after, according to Philip Boyce, the time that he’d knocked a hole through the clear aluminium windows and fried all the electrical wiring in the building in the process. 

“And you trust him to live here with you?” Jim asks the doctor, gripping his steaming mug of coffee like a lifeline. 

“Not really,” Boyce huffs back amusedly, “But he’s my best friend and I couldn’t say no. He’s mostly been sensible since Cait put the fear of god into him after he nearly comatosed our lad Nate by leaving a tray of weed brownies on the coffee table. Autistic three year olds and marijuana really don’t mix.”

“You have a son?” Jim questions, entirely unsurprised by Chris’ interest in pot.

“Yeah, Nathan Christopher Barry. Light of my life. He’s currently fast asleep on his uncle Chris’ chest, who's equally as unconscious. You can go up and see them if you like. Top of the stairs, only door on the right.”

“Oh. Yeah. I err, I think I will thanks.”

“Here take this hypo with you, for when Mr. Ludichris wakes up. Oh and kid?” Phil calls, causing Jim to pause just as he’s shuffling out of the kitchen. “Please remember. He may be a more than a few cards short of a full deck, but he’s insanely intelligent and his heart is always in the right place. If you want his obsession with you to die down a little, then tell him to back off now rather than later. Otherwise he’ll get even more attached and then I’ll have to hospitalise you for hurting him.”

Jim smiles wanly. 

“I’ll keep your warning in mind sir.”

* * *

   
“Bones?” Jim groans later that week, dropping his head onto the library desk they’re working on. “What do I about Chris?”

“What’s the fruit nutcase gone and done now?”

“Nothing!” Jim automatically defends. “Well. Everything I suppose,” he concedes after a second. “Dr Boyce was right, he’s a little obsessed with me. And now he’s gone and bought me an engraved lighter. A retro one that uses propane fuel.”

“Good god man, aren’t those illegal!?”

“Very illegal.”

“So what have you done with it?”

“It’s in my inside pocket. What! Don’t look at me like that! I could hardly throw it away when it’s got JTK carved in the front and USS Kelvin printed on the back!”

“I’m beginning to wonder how he made it to the rank of Captain.” 

“He almost got promoted to Vice Admiral once actually,” Jim muses, leaning back in his chair and smiling at the ceiling. 

Bones raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yup,” Jim continues. “Only he then stole a starship for an unsanctioned rescue mission.”

“He stole a starship?” Bones deadpans.

“The USS Yorktown. The mission was a complete success, except for the part where he ended up crashing the ship into a proto-planet to prevent it falling into Klingon hands.”

“How did he escape if he blew the ship up!?”

“Stole the attacking warbird from under the Klingon’s noses,” Jim’s smirks, admiration and no-little pride swelling in his chest. “Command dropped the insubordination charges against him on account of him bringing back a fully functioning Klingon cloaking device and all 24 senior medical officers that they’d written off as KIA. Man’s a goddamn hero in my opinion.”

Bones looks at him knowingly, and Jim shuffles self-consciously.

“You’re totally gone on him aren’t you kid?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Jim mutters, suddenly uncomfortable. “He’s in his fifties and is a decorated Starfleet officer. And I’m a twenty-two year old with a lame criminal record for petty theft and drunken disorderly. Plus he’s my academic advisor, even if he does take me to bars and coffee shops regularly and buys me weird shit.”

“That was not a denial Jim.”

Jim casts about desperately for another (hopefully) convincing argument.

“Aren’t there fraternisation regs?” he goes with after a second.

“Okay one,” Bones starts, dropping his PADD atop his digital textbook to list off on his fingers. “It’s the twenty-third century. Nobody gives a shit who you date or marry so long as you’re both of Federation age and fully consent, even in the ‘Fleet. And two. It’s Pike. Do you really think he’d care about breaking a few rules for you if it came to it? Also, three. Woman are evil and will cheat on you and divorce you and steal your children and your livelihood. Therefore, as a decidedly non-female, you are safe with Pike.”

“Bones,” Jim sighs despairingly, “Once again, repeat after me. “Not all women are my ex, and I will be a kind and non-judgemental individual”.”

“The point still stands.” Bones grumps, ignoring Jim almost completely. “Now stop bothering me and go talk to Captain insanity.”

* * *

Jim is barely half way across campus when Chris appears out of nowhere and jogs up behind him.

“Guess what I got Jimmy boy,” the Captain smirks melodically, unclipping his jacket despite the drizzle.

“A jar of piranhas?” Jim suggests inanely, moving his umbrella to cover Chris as well.

“I wish,” Chris snorts back. “I could leave them in Komack’s desk drawer and record him screaming like a Hapting child. No, what I’ve got is the new access codes for the flag officer’s firing range. Care to join me for a break in?”

Jim feels his face split in yet another grin and knocks his shoulder against the older man’s.

“Oh you bet I will, Captain.”

"Then it's a date Jimmy," Chris winks at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I added another chapter.
> 
> Yes, I had to raise the rating to M

“Chris, I’m actually going to kill him.”

“Going to kill who? Can I help?”

They’re sat in Chris’ cramped basement office once again, Jim scowling as he pulls his rain sodden boots off and chucks them grumpily towards the sole heating vent by the back wall.

“Yendu fucking Ajanlekoko, that’s who. And yes you can help; you can hold him down for me while I gouge his eyeballs out with a spoon and replace them with his other balls.”

Chris snorts and slides a chipped tumbler of single malt across his desk. Jim snatches it up eagerly and swallows a burning mouthful with a sigh of relief.

“That bad huh? What’d he do?”

“He’s my new roommate and I swear he’s the worst human being to ever have walked this planet ever.”

“Aren’t you always telling Bones to stop being overdramatic?” Chris laughs, pouring Jim another finger.

“I’m not exaggerating, he’s a total asshole” Jim grouses, crossing his arms on the desk and dropping his head onto them, one hand still wrapped around his glass. When Chris suddenly starts scritching his hair above his right ear, he twists his neck slightly so that he can see the Captain smirking fondly at him.

“He deliberately poured hot coffee all over my gym kit yesterday in a fit of childish tantrum throwing,” Jim continues sulkily, deciding to toe off his damp socks too. “And he borrowed my shaving kit without asking and broke it and then told me it wasn’t his fault because it wouldn’t have broken if it wasn’t shit. And he has a horrific taste in music. Betazoid experimental jazz for fuck’s sake. Which is bad enough even when you don’t start blasting it at three in the damn morning.”

“Sounds like a total dick. What happened to your previous roommate?”

“Dropped out of the academy and went back to Risa. Not enough parties and carousing here for him apparently, so he’s gone to help run daddy’s casino instead. Alright for some isn’t it?”

“I tend to get kicked out of casinos for card counting and cheating Jimmy,” Chris laughs. “So I don’t know if I’d say they’re alright.”

“That sounds exactly like you,” Jim grumbles.

“Eh, I am who I am. So new guy is being a little bitch then?”

“The biggest lil’ bitch ever,” Jim wines, giving in to impulse and pushing a little against the hand in his hair. “I swear, if he takes one of my PADDs without asking one more time, I’m gonna lose my shit! And on Tuesday I found out that he’s reported me to the dorm Quartermaster 5 times already! For late night noise!”

“Yeah but are you noisy at night?” Chris rumbles, still smirking. “Or are all those girls into gagging?” Jim shoots him an unimpressed look, as Chris is well aware of exactly how well his only three encounters since he started the academy have gone. i.e. not well.

“I wasn’t even there for two of the so-called “noise incidents” Chris. I was with Bones in the library all night the first time, and away at that conference thing in Berlin the second time. And besides, I’m reliably informed that I’m a totally silent sleeper. Bones woke me up once ‘cause he thought I’d stopped breathing. So this guy’s a fucking lying hypocritical douchebag.”

“Yendu Ajanlekoko you said? Leave it with me, and I’ll see what I can do son.”

“Ugh, you’re actually the best Chris.”

“And don’t you go forgetting it. Now come on, let’s go nick you so some dry socks from somewhere. I bet Lancet has some fancy ones in his locker.”

* * *

“What?” Bones growls, slamming his door open as hard as the hydraulics will allow. 

“Erm,” Jim grins self-depreciatingly, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair. “I couldn’t crash on your floor could I? Only I’ve sort of been locked out of my room…”

“You’ve gotten locked out of a room with a biometric lock on it?” Bones deadpans with a deeply unimpressed look. “What did you do? Change your DNA structure by accident?”

“I think maybe Ajanlekoko has deleted my profile from the room’s computer maybe. Possibly. He’s an ass like that.”

Bones sighs deeply, and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Look kid, I told you to go and report him.”

“And I have! Three times! And I told Chris!”

“If that’s so,” Bones drawls, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “then why is he still-”

“Leo honey, come back to bed already!” calls a decidedly feminine voice from behind Bones.

“You have company,” Jim sighs, closing his eyes for a long second. “And you did tell me and I forgot. Look I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“Yes I do and duty’s a calling.” Bones cuts over him with another unimpressed look and a raised eyebrow. “Now go report your resident son of a snargle again, and I’ll see you around kid.”

“Sure Bones…” Jim trails off as the door slides shut between them once again.

* * *

“Gary!” Jim begins overly cheerily, “How are you this fine evening?”

“What do you want Jim?” Gary slurs, futilely trying to tug his shirt back straight. 

“Now I know you said you were hosting a party for your theatre society friends, but is there any chance you might finish early enough that I can kip for a bit next to your bed?”

Gary grins sloppily at him. 

“Ain’t no party like an MTS party, we don’t stop till the clock does drop. Sleep is for the weak and the dead and the dead weak! Come on in, I’ll get you a beer and a pretty girl to stare at.”

“Gary- No Gary, I’ve got a 9am tomorrow morning. Gary- Gary! I can’t show up to Hargrill’s seminar half asleep and hungover again. Once was once to many! Gary damnit no!”

* * *

Jim stares at the holo-message scrolling on loop across the clear doors of the library entrance in despair.

“Who the fuck flooded the library on a Thursday!” he rages, shouting the words uselessly at the locked doorway. “How do you even flood a ten-storey building so badly it has to be shut overnight!?”

“Shut the fuck up Kirk!” Someone shouts across the quad at him, distance rendering the voice unidentifiable.

“Find me a dry, quiet place to sleep and I will, you fucking bastard!” he shouts back, stomping angrily down the steps, wishing he had accepted that drink from Gary after all.

* * *

He barely gets the words “Hey, any chance I could sleep-” out before Uhura groans in disgust at him and slams the door shut in his face.

“I didn’t mean like that!” he bellows at the metal panel between them. “I just want to curl up quietly on the floor! Aw come on, I don’t even snore!”

* * *

He stares up at the blue wooden door of the townhouse and wonders if that park bench he walked passed on the way here would be preferable after all.

* * *

“Heeey Doc. So I know I’ve maybe got some relationship commitment issues and that you said I had to stay away until I dealt with them, but honestly man, I just want to curl up on your couch and cry myself to sleep.”

Doctor Boyce looks down at him blankly, and Jim tries not to cringe and shrink into himself. 

“Rules are rules kid. You want to come in my house, you agree to stop toying with my best friend’s heart.”

“I’m really trying not to,” Jim laments, once again feeling like a scolded three-year old. “It’s just that I’m-”

“-Afraid of losing yet another person or being cast aside yet again. I know kid, you told me, not in so many or such obvious words, but you told me. And then I told _you_ that Christopher is the clingiest son of a gun you’ll ever meet and you’ll never be rid of him even if you tried.”

“But what if-”

“James.” Boyce sighs. “There are no ifs and buts. Tell the poor man that you’ll date him, let him hold your hand and show you off, and actually give the two of you a chance. I swear, he literally never stops telling me how great you are, even with you thoroughly dodging anything vaguely resembling a conversation about relationships.”

“And if I say I will, can I come in and cry in your front room all night?”

“I _will_ hold you to that promise if you make it Jim. Try to back out and I’ll break your spine in four.”

“You can physically breathe down my neck until I do Doc, I swear. So long as you promise not to let me over sleep and miss my morning seminar in return.”

Boyce smiles resignedly at him, and steps aside, gesturing into the warmly lit hallway.

“Alright, in you come then. Now please don’t tell my wife I threatened you with violence,” the doctor jokes as Jim slides passed him, shoulders drooped in relief. 

“Throw in a bowl of cereal in the morning and you’ve got yourself a deal Boyce.”

“I suppose you can go back to calling me Phil kid,” Boyce huffs in amusement, clapping him on the shoulder and steering him towards the back of the house.

* * *

“Jim!” Chris almost-yells excitedly as he clatters into the Boyce’s front room. Jim grins at him tiredly and ambles over to where the Captain is flopped sideways over an armchair with a bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest. Shrugging out his mist-damp jacket, Jim sinks to sit on the floor beside him, leaning back against the front of the chair and lets his legs sprawl out under the coffee table. 

“You look exhausted son. What are you doing here at this time of night!?”

Jim groans audibly and drops his head back against Chris’ side. Chris immediately sticks his fingers through the longer strands of hair at his crown, and he has to hold back another groan, this one of surprised pleasure.

“Ajanlekoko is a bastarding bastard and I need you to learn how to hide a body.”

“Already on it Jimmy. I may have casually mentioned that he’s viciously and relentlessly bullying you to a bunch of Admirals this afternoon. Made it sound like you and I are both at our wits end trying to get it stopped, and that he’s playing the victim and no-one is taking your complaints seriously. I even summoned up a tear of frustration for the event.”

“Well good, because he locked me out of our room,” Jim grumbles, letting his eyes droop shut. “Changed the biometrics so that they don’t recognise me. And I bet he’s ransacking all my stuff right now and breaking everything he touches.”

“Did you know that I’m a certified master of traditional Judo? Technically I’m only supposed to use it for self-defence, but wouldn’t it be a shame if I accidently slipped and threw him over my shoulder into a fountain?”

Jim chuckles lowly at Chris’ enthusiasm and shuffles his head a little further back against Chris’ side.

* * *

“Jim. Jim. Come-on love.”

Jim opens his eyes and peers blearily at Cait, who is leaning down over him and shaking his shoulder gently.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asks through a yawn, rolling his shoulders to stretch the stiff muscles. Through the doorway into the kitchen, he can hear a tap running slowly and the gentle clink of glasses knocking together.

“Just a little sweetheart,” Cait smiles at him. “Now sit yourself up on the couch and I’ll fetch you some bedding. If you sleep down there on the floor all night, you’ll do yourself a damage.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” he mumbles sleepily, rubbing at his gritty eyes. “I promised Phil I’d talk to Chris. No time like the present. Leap without looking and all that.”

“Oh so you’re saying I should put an extra set of clean towels for the morning in Chris’ room instead huh?” the Commodore smirks at him. 

Jim stares up at her confused, brain still not working at full speed so soon after waking.

“I guess…?” he tries tentatively, wincing when sitting up makes his back crack loudly. 

Cait rolls her eyes at him fondly. 

“Just go get him tiger,” she chuckles, grasping his hand and hauling him to his feet.

* * *

With absolutely no idea how to go about starting the aforementioned conversation with Chris, he instead settles for leaning in the kitchen doorway and watching him as he helps Phil wash and dry the last of the evening’s pots and glassware. 

When Chris eventually starts to saunter over, pitching the used tea-towel into the open refresher unit as he passes, he shuffles anxiously on the spot, but forces himself to hold his ground. 

“I thought you guys had a dishwasher?” he asks casually, wincing internally at how inane he sounds.

“We did,” Phil grouses from across the room, shoving the last of the now dry plates back in their cupboard. “And then thoughtless imbecile here put some of Nate’s Lego in it and somehow got it to self-combust.”

Chris shrugs guiltily, stopping in front of Jim and looking at him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. 

“I was just trying to wash the Lego ‘cause Nate buried a load of it out in the garden. I didn’t know it would get stuck in the sonic rotor.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Jim sighs fondly, stepping forward and dropping his chin onto his shoulder.

Jim catches approximately half a second of Chris’ startled but pleased expression, before arms are wrapping around his back and pulling him closer. After that, he can’t see anything but the neck his face is pressed against.

“Ah, but you love it really Jimmy,” is chuckled into the side of his head.

“Yup, you got me there you maniac. I totally do. Bed time now please?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Chris says quietly after a pause, reluctance clear in his voice. “We should go to bed yeah.”

“Lay on then McDuff,” Jim smiles, pulling back and nodding back towards the hallway and stairs. 

Chris nods with a confused look, but remains routed to the spot. 

Sucking up his courage, Jim takes a deep breath and reaches out to clasp Chris’ hand. 

“That means lead the way to your bedroom you dolt,” he smiles lopsidedly, nodding backwards over his shoulder again.

Chris’ eyes widen incrementally and Jim suddenly finds himself being tugged upstairs, Chris’ hand gripping his tightly.

* * *

Hands are gripping the hem of his black academy undershirt, and his back lands on top of the soft cotton sheets with a jolt. 

Chris’ weight presses him down into the mattress and the hands slide upwards, caressing over his sides smoothly, fingers dancing nimbly across his skin, pressing, stroking, exploring. Jim’s head drops all the way back with a full body shudder, and his own hands grip uselessly at the sheets beside him. 

Lips. 

On his neck, leaving a hot, damp trail that tingles in the cool air. He gasps and his hands tighten into fists. 

“Ch-Chris.” he stutters, desperately trying not to squirm.

“Um-hum,” vibrates below his ear, a low rumble of wordless agreement that reverberates up and down his spine. He shudders again, and his right hand releases the covers to rest lightly on Chris’ hip. He slips a thumb under the waist band beneath his palm, and teases gently at the soft strip of skin he finds there. 

“Jim,” Chris says quietly, only the barest hint of strain audible in his deep, resonant voice. “open your eyes for me Jimmy.”

Jim does, and Chris’ nose is mere inches from his, his steely-grey irises gleaming lowly in the light from the single bedside lamp. He smiles hesitantly above him, and Jim feels his breath catch in his throat.

He moves before the urge has passed even halfway through his mind, surging upwards and pressing his lips to Chris’.

Hot.

Slick.

_More._

Distantly, he registers that Chris is panting above him, tugging eagerly at his shirt and moving restlessly. He gasps, and the Captain swallows the noise, chasing it passed his teeth, surging against him with a desperate noise of his own. Jim bucks back, and then there are hands everywhere, skin pressed against damp skin and legs tangling together.

In an instant his shirt is gone, and Chris is leaning back to discard is own worn tee. And then the heat and pressure are back, and back and back and back, and _oh those lips._

A tug at his belt buckle, and he chokes back yet another pleading noise, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

And then.

And then.

_Oh god, and then._

* * *

He wakes slowly. 

An arm is over his chest and a head is on his shoulder.

He smiles.

Out on the landing, a young boy giggles excitedly as his father chases him cheerfully into the bathroom.

* * *

“Jimmy,” Chris slurs, rubbing his face sleepily against Jim’s torso.

“Yeah?” Jim crackles back, stretching his arms above his head and yawning,

“Can I kiss your asshole of a roommate ‘fore I throw him in a fountai’ for you?”

“Only if you let me throw an electrical toaster into the water with him.”

“Hmmmm,” Chris smiles, eyes still firmly shut. “Admiral Archer’s got a toaster we can steal.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "Ways in which Jim fucks with the Kobayashi Maru because Author-Eddy hates that damn test with a passion, version 7.0"

“Jiiiiim.”

They’re standing out the front of Command HQ, sunlight dappling through the leaves of the trees to the left of the main doors. Jim cranes his head upwards to squint towards the top of the metal and glass building, wondering if one of one of the windows he can see belongs to the office he’s been summoned to.

“Jiiiiiim,” Chris whines again, pressing his face further into his back. His arms are around his chest, one thumb idly stroking his shoulder.

“You can just come up with me you know,” Jim tells his over clingy boyfriend, patting his hand fondly. Chris huffs piteously and tightens his arms around him. “It’s just gonna be a five minute confirmation that I’m ready to attempt the Maru exam. 

“But an Admiral might see me and try to make me do some work,” he moans. “I already did like, half a report this morning.”

“I’m sure we can be sneaky,” Jim chuckles. 

“Ugh, maybe I’ll come with you then,” the older man grumbles. “But you have to get me cake afterwards if I do.”

“Gaila made brownies yesterday. Come with me and I’ll nab some for you.”

Chris’ head suddenly jerks up, his chin coming to rest on Jim’s shoulder. His breathe tickles Jim’s ear, and Jim twitches away with a smirk.

“Are they extra special good brownies?” Chris asks him with a grave tone of voice.

“Extra special Risan enhanced brownies,” Jim answers just as seriously.

Jim feels Chris grin suddenly, and then before he can blink, the arms around him are gone and he’s been pulled determinedly towards the doors by his hand. 

Goddamn, but Jim loves his insane bastard of a boyfriend.

* * *

Jim is _furious._

“I am going to break the damn thing with my bare hands!” he rages. “Smash it into tiny pieces and throw them all in the bay!”

“Hmmm,” he hears Chris agree absently, one leg thrown of his usual armchair. “I can get you past security if you want.”

“And then I’m gonna dredge all the pieces back up, take them to the chem labs and _dissolve_ them with the most potent acid I shouldn’t be able to get my hands on!” he continues.

“No breaking into laboratories!” a voice calls from the hallway, the sound of the front door being closed accompanying the demand.

“Well I’ll go to engineering and shove it all in the largest, hottest furnace I can find instead then!” Jim yells, swivelling angrily in the middle of the living room to glare towards the hallway.

Caitlin and Nathan Boyce are stood still in their dripping raincoats looking at him bemused and confused respectively. 

“What are we destroying anyway?” Cait asks, helping her son take his jacket and boots off.

“The Kobayashi Maru simulation,” Chris answers for him. He twists in his chair, ending up with his head hanging downwards, and then pulls an amusing face at Nate. The young boy cocks his head in that curious way of his, and then as soon as he’s free of his mother’s clutches, giggles and runs over to tackle his uncle Chris with a hug. 

“Oh well in that case,” Cait continues as she hangs her own outerwear up by the door, “I have a small army of officers who will be happy to help you out. That damn test is a menace and a destroyer of confidence. I’m all for disassembling it and melting it down.”

“Hear hear,” Chris says between bouts of laughter as he tickles his nephew thoroughly. “Burn it to the ground I say! What do you think Nate? Shall we set it on fire?”

Nathan shakes his head with a suddenly stoic expression, just as he’s been taught to do by both his parents whenever Chris mentions setting anything alight. 

“Yeah, I suppose your right,” Chris sighs with a smile, sitting upright and pulling the boy to sit his lap.

All the anger drains out of Jim in one dizzying drop as he watches the two interact, and he slides to the floor ungracefully; its hard to remain furious in the face of such adorableness. 

“Hey don’t worry kid,” Kait reassures him with ruffle of his hair as she walks passed. “At least you’ll never have to sit that damn test ever again.”

* * *

Jim stares at the piece of paper Chris has just handed him. 

Jim stares at Chris and the whiskey bottle he’s holding with a smug grin.

“This is a resit form. Why?”

“Because I know a guy who knows guy who was working on this theory,” Chris smirks. “And I think I think he was definitely onto something.”

“That’s delightfully vague dear,” Jim responds dryly, gesturing at the booze until Chris hands it over.

“And you love it! Now go pack our things while I go bully an Admiral into letting us borrow a small starship for a week.”

Jim closes his eyes briefly and silently prays that his other half a) actually _asks,_ and b) asks _nicely._

And also that he finds out what this probably-hairbrained scheme actually entails early enough to stop it if needs be.

* * *

“Delta Vega?” Jim asks as he stares out of the small viewscreen; the tiny ship is not much larger than a large shuttle, and only escapes that classification by virtue of having thin bulkheads between the various sections of the ship.

“The guy we need is down there,” Chris nods, his rarely seen serious-Captain face out in full force. “McKenna! Hand the helm over to Kirk and then go dig out the deep-cold-weather gear. Four sets; we’ll meet you by the transporter in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Despite the heavy survival jacket, the thermal over trousers, and the thick boots, Chris does not look happy when they rematerialize outside of a small concrete bunker in the snow.

“Desert rat, through and through,” Phil mumbles to him quietly as they watch the Captain walk stiffly over to a metal door inset in the wall and bang his gloved hand against it several times.

“Mmm I know,” Jim smiles back fondly. “That week last March when we vanished unexpectedly? We were at his little Mojave ranch taking full advantage of the pool, sunbeds, and the general isolation from civilisation. There was this one day when Chris-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Phil interrupts solemnly. “I already know far too much about your love life without learning more thank you.”

“Your loss,” Jim snickers loudly, causing McKenna to frown at them suspiciously.

* * *

“Lieutenant-Commander Scott!” Chris calls as they step out of the long cold hallway and into some form of disorganised engineering bay, the small, green-grey alien still leading them.

“What!?” echoes across the space. “You realise how unacceptable this is!?”

Chris grins and pushes back his hood as they round a disassembled shuttle.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re just doing your job, but could you not have come a wee bit sooner? Five months I’ve been here, living off…”

He trails off and stares wide eyed at Chris.

“Don’t you dare touch any of my equipment sir,” the Scottish man suddenly shouts pointing at Chris alarmed. “Keenser! Move anything flammable away from this man right now!”

“It was one time Mr Scott!” Chris whines in his most childish voice. “I didn’t mean to make it explode!”

“One time, my ass,” Phil snorts, punching his best friend’s shoulder with a fond look.

* * *

People forget.

Chris is high-key crazy a lot of the time, so people forget he’s also a huge nerd and a formidable genius. And not just where tactics are concerned either. Jim, spending most of his time outside of classes with the lunatic, has not had an opportunity to forget, but poor McKenna looks rather wide eyed right now.

As soon as Phil had managed to mediate Chris and… Scotty? into talking together far more amicably, the two men had started exchanging equations and theories with each other at a speed that would be alarming to most people. Jim is just about following what’s being said, but only because he’s been closely following Chris various research projects for almost as long as he’s been at the academy for. Phil gives up paying attention after less than a minute and wanders away to poke at a large first box clamped to the far wall, and McKenna only hangs around for another 10 seconds or so after that. 

Another 30 seconds, and Jim finds himself pulled by his arm inside one the run-down shuttles by Chris. 30 more, and the three of them are crowded around the screen of a simulation console, the engineer tapping away at the codes scrawling across it almost as fast as they’re all talking.

“I’m telling you Scotty! It’s just mass-energy transfer!” Chris keeps repeating. “The same as normal beaming, but with a moving target!”

“And you’re not takin’ into account the negative mass induction needed to break the warp barrier!” Scotty keeps answering back. “Not to mention the target ratios! Trans-warp beaming is like trying to hit a bullet with another smaller bullet, while blindfolded and riding a horse!”

“Yeah, but I’m good at horse riding!” Chris cuts back every time. “And at shooting shit!”

Jim just keeps sighing fondly and slips an arm around Chris’ waist.

* * *

“But the target is moving! At warp!”

Scotty must have said that a dozen times now. Chris has nodded every time and flicked even more numbers around on the simulator.

Jim has remained largely silent. 

“The target is moving,” he muses quietly to himself, still listening to the other two men bicker cheerfully. “Moving through space, the ship is moving through space.”

He pauses.

“Guys?” he draws out slowly. “Why is the ship moving?”

Scotty and Chris both blink at him.

“Because it’s at warp?” Chris says eventually, as if doesn’t quite understand why Jim is asking the obvious. “That’s the whole point Jimmy-love; Transwarp beaming is beaming onto another object moving at warp.”

“No, I know that. But-” Jim starts, thinking his phrasing through carefully before speaking. “Basic modern warp principles are based upon the idea that its space moving around the ship, not the ship moving through space. Otherwise mass increases exponentially and you start having to induce negative mass to compensate which involves excessive amounts of energy generation.”

Scotty and Chris both blink at him again.

The silence stretches.

“Laddie, I could kiss yeh right now,” Scotty says suddenly.

“Fuck that,” Chris exclaims gleefully, “I _am_ going to kiss you right now.”

Jim finds himself shoved back against the opposite wall before he can even finish processing Chris’ words, his mouth claimed thoroughly and hot, searing lips sealed over his. 

His groans in happiness and resolves to accidently make universe-changing physics statements many more times in the future.

* * *

Oh, good lord yes, Jim is _definitely_ accidently making universe-changing physics statements many more times in the future. 

“Oh _stars!_ Please do that again,” he shamelessly begs, entirely uncaring who might overhear them through the thin bulkheads of the small ship’s personal quarters. 

Chris grins at him with a deep haze of love clouding his eyes and then twists his fingers again.

* * *

“You’re not gonna get in trouble for bringing Scotty and Keenser back with us?” Jim slurs happily, entirely relaxed and limp under Chris; satisfaction is thrumming through his veins like life itself. 

“What are they gonna do about it?” Chris groans contently. He stretches like a cat, and then slides off Jim’s chest to lie along his side, an arm and one leg still hooked over him. “We just invented Transwarp beaming; if anything they should be giving Scott a medal, not disciplining me.”

“You should get a medal too,” Jim hums lowly into Chris ear, teasing the shell with the tip of his tongue. “For being Earth’s most sexy bastard.”

“Nah,” Chris preens. “To much competition from my boyfriend; he’d win that award instead.”

* * *

* * *

“You’re taking the test again?” Bones drawls slowly. He pushes his Padd to one side and stares at him across the library desk. “Wasn’t one embarrassing failure enough for you?”

“Chris and I have a plan,” Jim shrugs back.

Bones closes his eyes for a long second.

“I will start writing your eulogy now then. Would you like cremating or burying?”

“Relax! Phil and Caitlin are in on it, and they said it would be fine. Evil, but fine.”

“That is not making me feel any safer kid,” Bones grumps. “Those two are insane enough to let your maniac other half live with them. In fact, I’d be much happier if you would please leave me out of this scheme of yours altogether.”

“Too late; I already signed you up to be on my bridge crew again. You’ve got two weeks to prep!”

Jim grabs his bag and Padds, and scarpers before Bones can round the table and thump him one.

* * *

“We're receiving a distress signal from the USS Kobayashi Maru. The ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them Captain,” Uhura reads off crisply. 

“Cool,” Jim says unconcernedly, leaning back in the sim’s captain’s chair. “McCoy, park us a k-click away from the edge of the neutral zone. L’atha, get a lock on our stranded ship and pull up mid-range scans of her.”

“Two Klingon vessels have entered the neutral zone and have locked weapons on the Kobayashi Maru sir,” Bones announces, his doctor’s hands flying nimbly over the controls before him.

“That’s okay,” Jim shrugs with a smirk.

“That’s okay!?” Bones asks back incredulously. 

“Yeah don’t worry about it. Bridge to engineering, Ensign L’atha has a lock on our target; please beam her to the coordinates McCoy is about to send you using the two equation systems I have just provided you with.” 

He taps a few options on his chair arm panel, and then kicks his feet out before him. 

“Three more Klingon war vessels just decloaked and we are heading straight for us,” Bones growls. “I don’t suppose this is a problem either?”

“Nope.”

 _“Engineering to Bridge,”_ the instructor playing the role of the engineer from the observation bridge calls over the comm link. _“It’s physically impossible to beam that amount of mass with our transporter, even without taking the distance into account.”_

“No it’s not. Please begin beaming,” Jim responds calmly.

_“Kirk, we can’t.”_

_“Now,_ Engineering. Or I’ll come up there and do it myself.”

 _“Cadet Kirk, I’m serious,”_ The instructor insists, stepping out of his role. _“You can’t move that much mass with a transporter.”_

Jim grins viscously.

“Oh yeah? Watch me.”

* * *

“I don’t understand.”

The various instructors and officers are stood around in a daze still when Jim bounces up the last couple of steps and glides onto the observation deck above the simulation room. 

“It’s simple science guys,” Jim smirks. “Tell them Spock,” he adds, zeroing in on his boyfriend’s Vulcan first officer. “Tell them it’s just basic warp science.”

“I fail to see how your equations for large-mass beaming are related to warp theory cadet,” Spock answers tonelessly, not looking up from his Padd. “But I have only just begun to analyse the data, and thus cannot yet offer a concise opinion. I must warn you Cadet, that if I discover you have altered the parameters of my test without authorisation the consequences will be highly unfavourable to you.”

“Spock, I just reprogrammed the transporter to move the space around the Maru at warp, instead of moving the Maru itself. Realtime physics, nothing to do with your sim.”

The Vulcan goes very still. 

The other officers on the deck mutter 

“You have been pursuing Captain Pike’s personal research. The avenues that Starfleet Command denied funding to on the grounds of unfeasibility.” 

“What can I say,” Jim shrugs with a grin. “My guy may be insane all the way through, but he’s not dumb too! Not his fault people always forget to look beyond the crazy.”

“I don’t understand,” another commander asks, his brow furrowed. “Did Kirk cheat or not Spock?”

Spock tilts his head very slightly, finally looking up from his Padd. 

“Fascinating,” he says, with one final tap at the screen. “The cadet did not cheat, and his equations are real-world applicable.”

The deck erupts in uproar.

* * *

“And you should have seen their faces!” Jim recounts gleefully, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Half of them were furious, and the other half were looking at me like I’d hung the moon!”

Nathan nods enthusiastically, holding out three of his model starships expectantly. 

“You want me to show you how the theory works with your ships huh buddy?” Jim asks the seven-year-old with a fond smile.

Nate looks up at the ceiling twice, and then nods. Jim has learnt over the last three years that that basically means _No, that is not what I meant, but do it anyway._ Most often, Nate does it when talking to Chris, who is so fluent in Nate-speak that even Nate’s parents are a little in awe sometimes.

“Well okay,” Jim starts, taking the miniature USS Explorer and holding it in front of his nose. “We’ll pretend this is the Kobayashi Maru…”

* * *

He wakes to Chris lying on the floor next to him stroking his hair above his left ear.

“Hello beautiful,” the older man mumbles.

Jim smiles at him dopily.

“You have a sleepy boy cuddled against your other side by the way.”

Jim looks, and Chris is right; Nathan is tucked under his arm, his usually animate face completely relaxed and one hand clutching his t-shirt over his heart. 

“We were playing spaceships all afternoon,” Jim yawns, head turning back to meet Chris’ eyes again.

“And I was being lectured by a bunch of cranky Admirals for not handing over the Transwarp Beaming and Mass-Displacement Beaming equations sooner. Thanks for leaving me to deal with that alone dear.”

Jim shrugs sheepishly and bats his eye lashes coyly.

“Oh whatever, you’re forgiven,” Chris grumps almost instantly. “Jokes on the Admiralty anyway, because I put sleeping Teloric lizards in all of the tea and coffee mugs. So next time they try to use the meeting room, it’ll be infested with hundreds of tiny space scale babies.”

“Won’t they need food and water?” Jim asks with some concern, feeling around until he’s able to grasp Chris’ hand in his. 

“Nope! They only need feeding once every three standard months, so they’ll be fine. Plus -and this is the best bit- Teloric is a really high gravity planet, so they can jump really damn high in 1 g environments!”

“You’re mad,” Jim chuckles affectionately.

“As a hatter,” Chris laughs back, before scooting closer and pressing his mouth against Jim’s. 

_Goddamn,_ but Jim loves his insane bastard of a boyfriend. So. Damn. _Much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yar, Nathan Boyce is indeed non-verbal :)


End file.
